


In the Hall of the Mountain King

by mathildia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Regency, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bondage, Captivity, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent due to Intoxication, Execution, Flogging, Forced Marriage, Gang Rape, Honey, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Racism, Public Sex, Punishment, Reluctant Submission, Ritual Public Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, clothing restriction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of marrying Daenerys, Khal Drogo marries Viserys.</p><p>18th century AU, where Viserys and Daenerys are dis-inherited nobles. Drogo is the leader of a band of pagan travellers, wending their way around the south of England selling sex and herbal remedies. </p><p>
  <i>He could barely remember anything after they’d forced him to drink the wine. “Sir, I am sorry,” he managed to splutter out between Drogo’s kisses, such kisses, like the kisses he had yearned for all his life, “I have to go.” But he was gasping, bucking onto the thick fingers at his hole.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Drogo laughed and moved around to bite his ear. “Oh, Silver. You cannot go. Not after last night.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Viserys shivered, swallowed a deep moan as three fingers went into him and his dick jerked, hard now and leaking. He was writhing into Drogo’s touch. “I assure you… I assure you, n-nothing that happened last night has any bearing-“</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Oh it does, Silver. It does.” Drogo breathed. “Last night, I married you.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Mr Mopatis, the afternoon draws on, you will be wanting to reach home before it grows late. Perhaps you should take your leave.” Viserys stood, and Mr Mopatis stood too. Viserys took two tight breaths, trying to hide the way he was shaking with anger. “And I will thank you, also, sir, that, in my house, I would prefer you not to imply that the fact I distain from rutting in the woods with some gypsy fussock makes me some kind of fucking pathic.”_

Mr Viserys Targaryen Esq. abhorred scandal. It was scandal that had been the ruin of his family. It was a very particular scandal that had meant that on the death of their father and older brother, Viserys and his sister had been left with no choice but to sell their entire estate, including the family home Westeros Hall, to the wealthy ingrate Robert Baratheon, and that had not even cleared half the debt they had been left with. 

It was with utter dismay that Viserys Targaryen, with care of his young sister to think of and no family left alive in the whole of England, had been forced to manage as best he could, with only three servants, a single carriage and a small cottage, just outside the grounds of Westeros Hall, that was all he could salvage from the sale of his birthright.

And it would be fair to say, that Viserys Targaryen would do almost anything that needed to be done, to win back what he believed to be rightfully his. 

*

It appeared Viserys Targaryen’s dear sister, at the age of 13, had taken it upon herself to give Mr Mormont and Doreen the day off, on account of it being Easter Sunday, leaving them with a cold lunch and only Iris to serve. Viserys had invited his father’s friend Mr Mopatis to join them, and while he apologised for the lack of proper hospitality, Daenerys just laughed and helped herself to more than her share of the ham.

After lunch, Mr Mopatis and Viserys retired to the smoking room, where Mr Mopatis entertained Viserys with news from the town. Apparently small band of tinkers had set up camp in Eastly Woods. “Not tinkers, exactly,” Mr Mopatis said, “but not exactly a travelling fair either, though they do trade in herbs and elixirs and the like. They are of a strange faith, heathens, pagans, I believe. They worship forest creatures and animals mating. All extremely lewd. Although not without it’s fascinations.”

Viserys coughed. “And you much know of them, do you?”

Mr Mopatis looked lazily at Viserys, his eyes glazed and thick from the wine and the brandy. “Ah yes, indeed, they came this way once before. You would have been a boy then and kept well away from them. That is why I waited until young Daenerys had gone walking before mentioning them. But it is an interesting place for the young gentleman who wants a new sensation. I thought you might care to visit.”

Viserys baulked. “Mr Mopatis, I would never visit a tribe of tinkers, no matter what salacious thrills they have on offer.” He took a tiny tot of his own brandy and crossed his slender legs, tautly, straightened his back.

Mr Mopatis was sprawled like Nero on a great leather armchair. “You always were a strange boy, Viserys. Your father often intimated to me he suspected you might be a sodomite.” He said this, almost casually, as he took another slug from his own sloshing glass. He was very much one for getting drunk on someone else’s liquor. Even in the middle of the afternoon on a holy day.

“My father was a sadist and a drunk and, as far as anyone can tell, quite mad.”

Mr Mopatis quirked a lazy half-smile. “Doesn’t mean he was wrong.”

Angered now quite beyond belief, Viserys clenched his jaw tight. “Mr Mopatis, the afternoon draws on, you will be wanting to reach home before it grows late. Perhaps you should take your leave.” Viserys stood, and Mr Mopatis stood too. Viserys took two tight breaths, trying to hide the way he was shaking with anger. “And I will thank you, also, sir, that, in my house, I would prefer you not to imply that the fact I distain from rutting in the woods with some gypsy fussock makes me some kind of fucking pathic.”

“Ah, Viserys,” Mr Mopatis clapped him on the back as he headed for the door, steering him forward while using him for balance. “You forget how long I’ve known you.”

*

Viserys would never be able to give a rational explanation for what he did that night, what he did being in direct opposition to what he had told Mr Mopatis he would do. What he did being the exact thing he had been angered to have suggested he do. Nevertheless, after dark that night, he slipped out of the cottage and made his way to Eastly Woods. 

It was a pleasant walk, the paths were lit with a full fat moon. The stars were bright and though it was cold, there was something in the air that made Viserys feel a zip of excitement in his fingertips and at the back of his neck. 

As he climbed the stile into the woods, he saw them easily. Just the fires at first - living orange light, slipping though the trees. He heard the drums soon after. Then the flutes, the singing, the shouting. And when he got near enough, he saw them dancing.

More than dancing.

There must have been fifty of them, perhaps more, not naked, but not far from it. Dressed in lacy rags and scraps of glittering fabric, that didn’t always cover their breasts or cocks or cunts. Many of the men were hard, some of them were dancing whilst rutting. The drums thumped out a beat to either. He saw women bent over barrels being taken, some being taken by more than one man. He saw a women on her back with a man pressing is face to the apex of her thighs. He saw men kissing other men with their mouths open wide and plastered, slick together. 

Viserys’s prick stirred to see such things, and he felt himself colouring, hot at his face and neck. Viserys had never. Not even bought a whore or fucked a serving girl. Before he died, his father had tormented him for it. Told him he should take a women to bed at 14 or he was surely he was some kind of Nancy, pointed out how many pretty girls swooned over his brother Rhaegar - for all the good that had done Rhaegar in the end. 

Through the smoke, in the middle of the dancing and fucking, on a throne on raised on dais, Viserys saw a man he hadn’t noticed at first. A big man, like a giant beast. Thick, leather-covered thighs spread wide, eyes and hair as dark as the night sky. Once he’d seen him, Viserys couldn’t look away. He stared, dry-mouthed, unable to tell if this was fear or… he didn’t know what this was. His prick stirred in his trousers, just from the sight of this man, the feeling half sickened him. 

And he was still staring, lost to it, drowning in what felt like desire, when he felt two sharp hands on his shoulders, turned in shock to see the nasty, leering faces of two of the heathen men, dressed only in half-shredded breeches, pulling him out of his hiding place in the trees. “Well then,” one said, and his voice was rough, with a thick accent. “What do we have here? A little prince from the manor house, is it? You have to pay us if you want to see titties, boy. Is it titties you want?”

Viserys lifted his chin high. “You will unhand me at once or I shall see to it the the magistrate-“

And he was cut off by the second man, who was burlier and bald, slapping him hard around the face, viciously enough that he almost spun off balance. 

“Why you-“ Viserys began, but the second man dragged Visrys forward by the throat and shoved his own round face up close. His breath smelled like rotting meat. 

“You’ll be shutting yer mouth now, sweetheart. Or I’ll sew it shut with a piece of cow hide,” he said with a strangely suggestive nod.

Viserys whimpered and shut his mouth in terror. The hands on his shoulders were tight, digging into him as the two men manhandled him into position between them, taking a punishing hold of an arm each. They both stank and he didn’t disbelieve their claims of easy violence one bit. He shook with the thought of it. And the thought that these men - he was certain - were now to drag him to their revels, strip him and force him to take part. To fuck his arse and his mouth. Hurt him if he refused or tried to get away - or even if he didn’t perform as well as they wished. They meant to rape him. His dick was still hard - _pulsing_ \- in his trousers. It was all he could do not to moan out loud, as they dragged him towards the fires. 

But he was not put into the main area of revels but forced over to the man on the throne. “Lord Drogo,” the bald one shouted over the insistent drums as they approached him, “you were right. He was in the trees.”

The man - Lord Drogo - nodded and the two men pressed Viserys to his knees in front of the throne. The fires were hot on his back, the drums louder than ever. Viserys was panting with desire, now, couldn’t find a way to stop himself. When Drogo bent forward and lifted Viserys’s chin, he moaned. And Drogo smiled, big dark eyes meeting his. “At least give the poor creature a drink,” he said. His voice was slow and deep. Something about the tone of it made Viserys’s mouth even drier.

And then someone, maybe the first man, was forcing the opening of a wine skin between Viserys lips, someone else tugging his head back by the hair, and before he could move or speak, thick, strong sweet wine was gushing into his mouth. He choked on first, then got the hang of swallowing with his head forced backwards, and when he wanted to stop and tried to pull his head away, they held his arms and his head and forced more of it down his throat, making him drink and drink, laughing as he struggled, unable to breathe - wine spilling down his chin.

Drogo touched his cheek. “There, there, fair silver. Swallow it. Do not refuse my gifts.”

 

*

Viserys woke with a thick head and a sour taste in his mouth. And he was in a bed of mud and rags, arched over by a twig canopy, broken in places where the sun came in. And he wasn’t alone.

The man next to him was a beast of a creature. Dark skin, hairy. Ominous tattoos on his thick biceps. Long hair, long beard, black, like ink, smudged around his sleeping eyes. And one of those heavy tattooed arms was thrown over Viserys, and he could no more move it than he could the earth itself.

The man was Drogo, and he was naked. 

And so, so was Viserys.

Viserys swallowed and looked at Drogo beside him again. He was terrifying and somewhat beautiful. And, as Viserys watched, his blackened eyes opened. He looked at Viserys, as if assembling his memories. And he smiled. A slow, contented smile. 

“R-right then,” Viserys began, with a swallow and a half cough. “So, I’ll thank you for the hospitality. But I really must be on my way now. I’ll be missed.”

Drogo touched his own top lip with his tongue in a way that made Viserys almost shudder. “Oh, Silver, you won’t be going anywhere,” he said, his voice a deep rasp. And he lifted himself up and swung a leg over Viserys, caging him. Viserys gasped under the thick weight of Drogo’s body, pinning him to the earth. “No, no, precious little prince.” And Drogo dipped his head and kissed Viserys, kissed him hard and slow, opening him up with a persuasive tongue before he could protest or move away or do anything. “You will be staying right here, you delicious creature. I will have you again before we rise. You’re still wet for me.” Drogo was speaking right into Viserys’s open mouth. “You screamed with want when I took your maidenhead last night. All but begged me to relieve you of it.”

“What?” Viserys was cut off by another kiss, as he realised his hole was still slick with something, Drogo’s fingers already teasing there, and his stomach was sticky with evidence of his own release - perhaps more than one. He could barely remember anything after they’d forced him to drink the wine. “Sir, I am sorry,” he managed to splutter out between Drogo’s kisses, such kisses, like the kisses he had yearned for all his life, “but I have to go.” But he was gasping, bucking onto the thick fingers at his hole.

Drogo laughed and moved around to bite his ear. “Oh, Silver. You cannot go. Not after last night.”

Viserys shivered, swallowed a deep moan as three fingers went into him and his dick jerked, hard now and leaking. He was _writhing_ into Drogo’s touch. “I assure you… I assure you, n-nothing that happened last night has any bearing-“

“Oh it does, Silver. It does.” Drogo breathed. “Last night, I married you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He stood naked in the woods, wondering if now, finally, he could make an escape. He thought of Daenerys - she would be waking alone, wondering where he was - and looked down at his body. His pale skin was covered in dirt, a smudgy coating on every part of him, cut through only by thin rivulets made by his own spilled seed. It sickened him to think of going back to the cottage in Pentley in such a state, but he did not see what choice he had, unlikely as he was, to find any options to clothe himself here._

Viserys didn’t respond, couldn’t. 

Drogo slid down his body, holding him firmly against the filthy floor as he dropped plush, lush kisses on his neck and chest. Those three big fingers were still inside him, working inside him. The ridges on each large knuckle caressing him, making him writhe. And though they burned. Though they felt as though they were trying to break him open - trying to turn himself into another creature entirely - he had never felt such pleasure. He felt almost sick with it, like it was a delirium. 

His dick was tight-hard, dripping softly - constantly - onto his belly. In his passion, he reached for it, wanted to stroke it, and Drogo swatted his hand away, pressing a low, rumbling laugh into a kiss on his hipbone. Viserys whimpered at that. He wanted his hand on his dick. He was strung taut with arousal, desperate for it. And what was worse was, the way Drogo had casually disallowed him from touching himself, without even looking at him, without a word, turned him on more than anything.

After a few more moments of thrusting and panting and hot kisses over his pelvis that were coming close to bites, Drogo slipped his fingers from Viserys - and Viserys made a deep needy wail, so wanton it shamed him. Drogo laughed again, knelt between Viserys spread legs, grabbed his slender hips and gathered him into his lap, carefully spearing him onto Drogo’s own thick cock. Viserys yelped. He was still slick from whatever oil had been used the night before and had been worked open until he was almost bucking with arousal, but Drogo’s cock inside him still felt like the earth beneath him was shattering to pieces.

Viserys threw his head right back and clung to Drogo’s shoulders as Drogo slid his hands down and used two wide palms to spread him helplessly wider and slowly let him slip further down Drogo’s dick until he was set, flush in his lap. 

Viserys made a long desperate keening sound and opened his tight-squeezed eyes.

Drogo’s own eyes were looking into his, glassy with desire. With a low grunt, he jerked his hips upwards, jolting his cock inside Viserys and Viserys moaned. 

His whole body was shaking, overloaded, like it was too, too much. He tried to just breathe. Just stay where he was and breathe. 

Drogo grasped Viserys by the waist and lifted him, following after with his own body, so they stayed docked together, and set him down, on the floor, on his back, like he was a whore for it - a whore who would take anyone - and then Drogo snapped his hips back and drove into Viserys so hard it was only Drogo’s big hands gripping his hips tight enough to leave a clutch of bruises, that stopped him being shoved back across the mud. 

Drogo moaned, dipping his head to kiss Viserys deep, and pulled out again. And he fucked him. 

“You can’t remember last night, can ye?” said Drogo, his lips moving against Viserys’s mouth, his voice broken up from he exertion of thrusting, his hips slamming against Viserys over and over, his hair was falling into Viserys’s face. “It is a shame, Silver. Can’t remember how ye begged for it, how I made ye scream and come again and again. Never seen a man fall apart quite like-“ he grunted into a particularly hard thrust that made Viserys cry out “-quite like ye did. Begged for my dick, Silver. Got onto your knees and worshipped it like it was the Heron King.” 

It seemed to Viserys quite an injustice that he couldn’t remember such a thing. He was incredulous to think he would have conducted himself in such a manner as Drogo was describing. Even whilst inebriated on the foul liquor they had made him drink. Perhaps it had been some kind of aphrodisiac. He shuddered at the idea, but welcomed it somewhat. However, he was sober now. He was sober now and he wanted nothing so much as for Drogo to fuck him until he broke into pieces. He whimpered into Drogo’s mouth.

“Aye,” Drogo panted, “ye really can’t recall it, can ye?”

Viserys shook his head as best he could under the relentless assault of Drogo’s cock. “N-no.”

Drogo laughed. “Ye’ll remember this, Silver,” and let go of one of Viserys’s hips, moving his hand to take a punishing and painful grip on Viserys hair. Then, well anchored, he upped his pace of his firm thrusting. Viserys screamed out. 

It felt like… He had never felt anything close to this. He was certain he was passing out from pleasure. Waves and waves. His dick was jerking into nothing, jolting untouched on his gut. And it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed, he just saw white, whichever he chose. Drogo had stopped teasing him now, was, instead, just spitting out dirty words as he fucked him, wrenching at his hip and his hair. “Gonna fuck ye now, Silver. Gonna fuck ye so hard. I know you want this. Ache for it. All you’ve ever wanted. My cock. My dick. Uh-“ And he broke off, thrusting harder, harder as he came, dragged Viserys with him as he shot too, untouched, hard enough to hit his own chin.

*

Drogo’s chest was heaving, he still hadn’t spoken. Eventually he grunted, disentangled himself from Viserys and rolled over. Viserys blinked and sat up gingerly, peering over Drogo’s bulk to check. He was asleep.

Silently, hardly breathing, Viserys got up from the bed and found his way out of the covering of woven twigs. They were in a little clearing, surrounded by trees. He could see the rest of the camp a short distance away, the fires were still smoking. Viserys hadn’t even stopped to search for his clothes. He stood naked in the woods, wondering if now, finally, he could make an escape. He thought of Daenerys - she would be waking alone, wondering where he was - and looked down at his body. His pale skin was covered in dirt, a smudgy coating on every part of him, cut through only by thin rivulets made by his own spilled seed. It sickened him to think of going back to the cottage in Pentley in such a state, but he did not see what choice he had, unlikely as he was, to find any options to clothe himself here. 

He twisted around, trying to figure out which way to go, and was taken by surprise when he suddenly doubled up and vomited all over the forest floor. His puke was deep purple. He coughed twice, then staggered off through the trees. 

It happened suddenly. He wasn’t thinking too deeply about anything except the presence of spiky or slimy objects under is bare feet, when two firm hands fell upon his shoulders. And he didn’t have a moment to even draw a breath before he had been whirled around and slammed hard against a tree, winding him viciously. He gasped, struggling for breath.

“Whatcha think yer doin’ out here, little prinny?” 

It took Viserys a moment to realise that the man who had him was one of the ones who had caught him last night. The thick set, bald one. Viserys had a dulled memory that his name was Haggo. He took a long shaky breath and lifted his chin. He placed his hand on top of where Haggo was holding him hard against the tree, the bark shredding the skin from his back. “If you would be so kind as to unhand me,” Viserys said, “I really must be on my way.”

Haggo snorted. “Ye ain’t goin’ anywhere. Yer Drogo’s. I don’t know if he didn’t make it clear to ye, but y ain’t to be doin’ this, slut.” 

“What?” Viserys realised with a sickening jolt that Haggo was only holding him with one hand, was using the other to loosen his breeches. “W-what are you doing? What are you going to do?”

Haggo pressed his face close. “I’m gonna punish y’ fer strayin’, Prinny. Save Drogo a job.” And he let his breeches slide to the ground. “Now, are ye gonna behave and turn yerself around for me?”

“You can’t mean?” Viserys shuddered, feeling himself going cold and white with fear. 

“Don’t be bashful, Prinny,” said Haggo as his hard dick poked artlessly at Viserys’s bare hip, “I’ve already had ye once. We all had ye. Y’ wanted it.” Viserys whimpered. Haggo jerked his hips forward harder. “You don’t remember what happened to ye after ye drank all that elderberry wine do ye? We all had ye, sweetheart. We lined up and ye begged for each of us. I don’t even have a taste for catamites, but Drogo said ye’d be pale and ripe as a wench under yer shift. An’ he ain’t never steered me wrong. Y were sweet as a peach-” And Haggo stopped talking, suddenly, frozen with fear, his tongue half out of his stinking mouth.

Viserys’s eyes stretched wide when he saw Drogo there. Standing behind Haggo as if he’d come out of nowhere. A handful of Haggo's hair in one big hand, a knife in the other, pressed to Haggo’s throat. “This is theft, Haggo,” Drogo said slowly, pushing the knife until Haggo’s skin split and he made a low, terrified sound.

Haggo turned awkwardly, in the gap between their bodies, to face Drogo, the knife dragging at his skin. “He was escapin’, sir. 

Drogo looked slowly from Haggo to Viserys. His face was solemn. “I see.” Viserys swallowed, then swallowed again. This was the most serious he’d ever seen Drogo look. “Silver, if this man was taking yer by force, I will cut his throat in front of ye. However. If he was preventing yer from running away, that is very different. What is the truth of the matter?”

“Yer can’t be asking him!” said Haggo, but Viserys interrupted. “I was, sir.” He looked Drogo in the eye. “I was running away. He caught me.”

Drogo nodded. He let go of Haggo and he fell to the ground, Drogo all but kicked him aside as he said, “Leave us.” And Haggo scurried away.

With Haggo gone, Drogo pushed closer, pressing the length of his body against Viserys, forcing him harder yet against the tree. Drogo was wearing only his leather breeches. Viserys wondered for a moment if it was his turn with the knife, but Drogo dropped it on the floor, took one of Viserys’s wrists in each hand and lifted his arms up above his head - stretching him onto his toes. Viserys’s hips jolted. “What am I to do with ye now, Silver? You aren’t to run. I will have to punish ye for it.”

Viserys couldn’t speak. His breath was coming in fast, rough pants at the idea of _punishment_. What strange perversion was this? He was hard. “P-please,” he managed. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Aye, are ye? How about I rope you to this tree here. Naked as y’are. Face pressed to the bark, arse for the use of anyone that passes. You think-“ Drogo slammed his hips hard into Viserys. And Viserys could feel the iron hard length of him. “You think that’d be sufficient punishment.”

“Please, sir, please don’t.” But Viserys’s voice was ragged - fading in and out. “Oh, please. I’m sorry.”

And then Drogo pressed his cock hard against Viserys’s own, ground onto it and Viserys let out a long keening wail. Drogo laughed. “I will think some more on it, Silver. But now. We must eat.”

*

Drogo had found a loose shirt from somewhere and back at the camp, there was fresh bread, thick slabs of butter and pots and pots of honey. There was a kind of tea made from herbs that was both enlivening and soothing. Viserys drained the first cup he was given and eagerly held it out for a refill. Drogo laughed and stroked his jaw. “Ye’re thirsty. Are ye hungry too, precious Silver?”

Viserys set down the cup, spotting Haggo staring at them. “Yes sir, I am.” 

“Come then, sit here on my lap,” said Drogo and before Viserys could protest or even react at all, Drogo had gathered him up in his thick arms and set him down, nestled on Drogo’s spread thighs. Drogo had done it in such a way that his shirt had been pushed aside, and his bare flesh was pressed against Drogo’s leather breeches. Despite the public shame of it, he moaned softly at the heat from Drogo’s lap and rubbed onto the leather. 

Drogo chuckled, stroking his arms through the loose shirt sleeves. “Shall I get ye some honey, Silver?” he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Viserys’s ear.

Viserys nodded, expecting and hoping for a slice of that delicious smelling bread, spread thick, but when Drogo waved to one of the servers, they brought him nothing but a glazed bowl of honey. Viserys looked up at Drogo and, while he watched, Drogo stuck one thick finger into the honey, stirred it around and then held it up at Viserys’s face, glistening. Viserys looked at Drogo, held his eyes, and pushed his tongue out, licking at the honey. His tongue sliding up and down Drogo’s finger.

And after a moment, with both of them panting, Drogo pushed the honeyed finger into Viserys mouth. Viserys couldn’t help himself. He moaned around it. His prick was hard. Drogo slid another finger in and whispered, “They can all see ye, Silver. They can all see me taking ye like this. I bet many of them will be having bets on how many times I’ve fucked ye already today, seeing how desperate for it y’are, like this. I bet they’d be shocked it was only once.” And he shoved a third and fourth finger into Viserys’s mouth, taking his entire lower jaw in his hand. 

“Please,” Viserys whispered around Drogo’s fingers, honey and drool running down his chin. “Please. More.”

Drogo laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

After breakfast Drogo took Viserys to another part of the camp to, ‘make ready for the journey.’ As they crossed the wood, heading to a large tented structure made of billowing and very stained linen - with Drogo’s hand firm enough around Viserys’s left wrist - Viserys began to feel sick. And it wasn’t just the honey.

He had enjoyed Drogo’s attentions over breakfast. Enjoyed them in some strange fashion, but he couldn’t deny that he had felt pleasure. When Drogo had suggested, his tongue slick in Viserys ear and his whisper filthy, that Viserys should get onto his knees and take Drogo’s cock in his mouth for all to watch, Viserys had looked him in the eye and said firmly, “Sir, I will not.” And Drogo had laughed, and not insisted - although VIserys had no doubt that Drogo _could_ have insisted - just said in a low murmur that, “Y’are right, Silver, my first time in yer sweet mouth will be a moment to treasure.” And Viserys had bitten his lip to hide a whimper. He regretted instantly that he had not allowed himself to be publicly used by Drogo at the feast table, in front of his entire tribe of immoral tinkers - his cock throbbing wetly at the obscene, shameful thought.

“Sir,” Viserys said as they reached the linen tent and ducked through the awning, “I must ask your intentions with our situation. As we are not married in the eyes of God, nor never will be -“

“Ah, Silver,” Drogo cut him off, turning and grabbing his other wrist and jerking him so close that their bellies touched. The light inside the tent was misty, filtered through fabric. The floor was dirt and moss. Viserys could feel the length of Drogo’s cock pressing firm against his naval. “Silver, y’are right,” Drogo said. “I was not wholly correct in telling yer we had wed. Last night I only announced my intention to wed ye. But tis binding nonetheless. It would be a great shame upon me if I did not carry out such a pledge.”

“But you can’t,” Viserys said. “Men cannot marry men in any case, and I do not give my consent.”

“Oh, Silver, enough of this.” Drogo’s face was very close to Viserys’s own. Viserys couldn’t stop staring at Drogo’s lips. The way they were so big and soft. Everything about this man was big, but his lips were huge, luscious and generous and mesmerising - and then, as Drogo leant a little closer and kissed Viserys it felt as if his whole body simply came apart. Under Drogo’s tongue Viserys was putty, he was clay. His body was nothing and yet the sensation was everything, sparky with life, with lightening. It was as if he had never felt anything else his whole life, as if he had but slept and Drogo’s deep, smooth kisses had awoken him.

“And now, Silver,” said Drogo, as he finally pulled his mouth away, “y must be made ready for travel.”

Viserys was panting. “Ready how, sir? What do you mean?” Drogo was holding Viserys’s wrist again, but the grip was tighter than before - like a warning that Viserys should not think of pulling his hand away. Viserys lifted his eyes gingerly to Drogo’s face. “Sir?”

“Ye tried to run, Silver. Y must be contained. If y run, it will be a dreadful thing for both of us.” 

Before Viserys could respond, Drogo yanked him by his wrist across the tent and through a loose flap of linen. Beyond it another tented room opened onto the forest. Four large covered wagons waited there, horses standing idle. In the room several of Drogo’s gypsy tribe were packing a variety of domestic wares onto the wagons. Viserys saw the cage at once.

Although it was little more than a large wooden crate, made from twigs and woven twine, he knew it’s purpose instantly.

It would contain Viserys, if he sat in it with his knees drawn up, but wasn’t big enough to allow any other position. Viserys drew a long shaky breath. His legs felt so weak at the sight of the cage they barely held him up. He swallowed, and then swallowed again when the lump of fear had not moved from his throat. “Sir,” he said, and his voice was a dry, desperate rasp. “Sir, you can’t mean to -“

Drogo stopped Viserys speaking by pulling him, in his tight grasp, and spinning him, Drogo’s other arm catching his free wrist and drawing Viserys tight to his body, this time with his back against Drogo’s chest. Drogo’s mouth was wet at Viserys’s ear. “Oh, but I must, Silver,” he breathed. And he was hard, like he wanted this. Drogo's cock was pressing at Viserys's rear, which was bare against Drogo’s breeches, his shirt caught up and trapped between their bodies. “I wish I didn’t have to, dear prince. But you know y’are not to be trusted. If y had behaved better, perhaps ye would be allowed to walk behind my horse with just a simple rope halter around yer neck, to show my ownership, but for now, truly, y will be caged. And you will bear punishment, as ye ought to, or I will have to take a switch to ye.”

Viserys was panting. His filthy treacherous cock stiff against his belly, not hidden at all by the shirt he wore. “Please no, not a cage. Don’t make me. Please don’t do this,” he managed, all but sobbing. The thought of it, the humiliation making his guts feel like they were crumbling away. 

The wagon packers had turned to look at them and Viserys saw Haggo was amongst them.

“Trouble with the beloved, m’lord,” he called, his tongue half out his mouth as he stared, stared right at Viserys’s erection, before letting his lascivious gaze draw up Viserys’s body to his flushed cheeks, lust-lidded eyes, parted lips. Haggo looked as if it was all he could do not to race across the tent, snatch Viserys from Drogo’s arms and throw him to the floor for fucking. Viserys let his head roll back onto Drogo’s shoulder, closed his eyes.

“Ye’ll keep yer eyes of what’s mine, Haggo,” Drogo said, his voice low and dark, darker than any tone he’d used with Viserys even when speaking of punishment. But it changed in an instant, as he said, “Come, Rakharo.” 

At this name another man looked up. A tall, younger man with curly dark hair. His chest was bare, and he wore brown leather breeches like Drogo’s. “M’lord?”

“Open the cage, Rakharo. Come, now, sweet prince. I’ll have no more denial of my will from yer dear mouth. Time to settle ye into yer new home.”

Viserys managed no more than, “Sir, please,” before Drogo picked him up from the ground and flung over one shoulder so roughly he was winded by it. He marched across to where Rakharo had the cage open and slung Viserys inside, hard. Rakharo took some twine and tied it closed.

As Drogo turned away, Viserys tried one more, “Sir, please -“

And Drogo turned back and squatted down, peering through the tight set wooden bars, “Silver,” he said, “don’t be making a show of me now. And don’t be touching yer prick in there either. I know this treatment rouses ye. But that’s fer me, yer understand. Yer pleasure is mine now sweetling.” He touched his tongue to his top lip and Viserys’s cock, which was shamefully hard, had remained hard throughout the entire caging process, twitched, wet against his stomach. “I’m glad you enjoy such treatment, Silver. Shall I rope ye to our bed tonight when I take ye? Make ye beg for my touch?”

Viserys lifted his chin and looked away.

*

After that they had thrown and oil cloth over the cage and he had been aware of little. The jolts as he was heaved onto the wagon and later some swaying movement. Eventually his head started to ache. And then he slept. 

He dreamed a little and fitfully. Dreamed of Daenerys and Westeros Hall. He knew he had to go back.

When the swaying stopped it woke him. It was night. He was thirsty and aching, but no one came to fetch him for a long time. When the oil cloth was finally tugged off the cage, he blinked, finding himself to be in a small red tent lit with candles. 

Two women were looking at him, both had long dark hair and were so similar of face they must be sisters. Both were dressed in leather skirts too short to be seemly and loose shirts and barely covered their breasts. One held a knife, which she used to cut the tight spools of twine that held Viserys prison tightly closed. He had tried in the early part of the journey to unravel the twine that held the cage shut, and only succeeded in making his fingers bleed.

“Mr Targaryen,” said the first woman, and Viserys was struck to hear his name come from the mouth of one of these savages. “My name is Mira Flowers and this is my dear sister Sera. We are servants of Lord Drogo, King of the Dothrak and High Wizard of all Southern England.” She bowed her head a little and her sister did too. “We are here to prepare ye for yer master’s bed.”

Viserys nodded. His throat was so dry it ached. “Do you have water? I would like some water.”

Mira smiled. “Dear sir, we have more than that. We are here to bathe ye, ye will have all the water ye require, plus scents of rose and violet, fine oils, fresh clothes and all you desire. Y’are the consort of our King and shall be treated as such.”

“Very well then,” said Viserys, getting to his feet and climbing out of the cage, taking Mira’s offered hand. “Please, lead on.”

In the red tent, the two women offered Viserys a canteen of water that he drank deeply from as they bathed every part of his body in warm water and sweet oils. They washed his hair with a jug and a bowl and combed it and they dressed him in a long red silk robe. Then they took him to the bed. 

It was a real bed this time, not a dirty heap of moss and straw. A wooden bedstead hung with garlands of ivy and scattered with rose petals. The two women had him lie down upon it, and then, before he was quite aware, they tied both his wrists to the bed frame above his head with more of the biting twine that had held his cage closed. “Wait!” He tried to tug his wrist away too late, “I do not need to be bound.”

“I am sorry, sir,” said Mira, as Sera moved around the bed and tied his ankles in a similar fashion, “but I cannot do other than what the King bids us. He instructed us to rope ye in a fashion for him to take ye. He said it pleasured ye.”

“It quite certainly does not,” said Viserys tartly, tugging at one of the wrists ropes and finding it tight and firm.

Sera, at the end of the bed lifted her head. Her face was sweeter than her sisters, she was blushing. “He is,” she said with a mischievous spark in her voice. “He is quite eager to come to ye, sir. I do not think ye will wait, frustrated for long.”

“That is not quite the - “ And then Viserys’s voice dried as he saw what Mira held. “No,” he said, his voice quite different from the haughty tone he had used a second ago. “No, please.”

Mira shook her head. She held a long strip of brown cloth. “Sir, we must all do as our King wishes.”

And, as Mira tied the cloth around his eyes, Viserys spat out weakly, “He’s not my king.”

*

He didn’t know how long he waited. But when the wait was over someone was there, in the room. “Drogo?” he said, a little scared in the dark. Blind and vulnerable. But he was sure it was Drogo from the scent of him Heavy sweat. Dark and overwhelming. That scent alone stirred Viserys’s dick. Then a weight on the bed and a long deep kiss on his lips. Viserys moaned into the mouth on his. Chasing after it when it pulled away, yanking at the ropes that chafed his wrists. “Please,” he whimpered when he was unable to recapture the kiss, broken to nothing by a single touch.

Finally Drogo’s voice came, slow and deep. “Do ye like these ropes, Silver?” And Viserys felt a big hand trace the twine at his left wrist.

“No,” he said, his voice firm but not more than a whisper. “No. Free me. Let me touch you.”

“Really?” said Drogo and a big, firm fist closed around VIserys’s hard cock. He’d been so aroused for so long he could barely keep his hips still a the touch. He fought not to buck up into the well of it. “Because yer prick is like iron, Silver. You sure you don’t enjoy being roped? It is not a such a strange thing fer a man to find pleasure in y know.” And he slid his hand back, down between Viserys’s legs and found his hole, grazed it with a single thick finger. Viserys keened, low in his throat. “There can even be some power in such desires. I certainly enjoy the sight of ye, helpless like this.”

“No,” VIserys rolled his head back and forth against the pillows. To be taken like this, forced to service a man, forced to take pleasure in it, even, was bad enough, but to be made to endure such madness, such perverse desires. It was too much. Too, too much.

“Ah, Silver.” Drogo’s hands moved still - went everywhere. One moment he was still caressing Viserys’s hole, the next lightly jerking his prick, the next pinching his nipples to hard, spiky points. “I do love yer pretty face when ye are so indignant about the things ye claim to dislike, yet grind yer hips like a whore for. I find yer protests quite bewitching.” And he threw a leg over Viserys and straddled him. Viserys moaned, cursing the blindfold that covered his eyes. He rolled his head, trying to drag it off on the pillows, but Drogo caught his skull and held it still in two hands then kissed him slowly and for some time. When he stopped, and with both of them gasping, he said. “Tell me what else ye would hate me to do ye, Silver? Jack your pretty pale prick?” His fingers found it, obscenely wet and straining, but only grazed it, making Viserys thrash. “Gag your pink mouth? If I did that I’d use a filthy rag, maybe something of mine, maybe a cloth I’d kept wrapped around my dick all day just for yoe, before I stuffed it deep into yer mouth and made you hold it there while I took ye. Aye, what else would ye just hate, dear little prince?”

“Your cock,” Viserys whispered.”

Drogo dipped his head and licked over VIserys’s shaking lips. “Aye, Silver. And what would ye hate me to do with my cock?”

“Shut me up with it,” Viserys voice came out in a wild chatter, words falling over themselves, desires fighting to be heard. “Shove it down my throat, deep. Make me choke, sir. I want to choke on your dick. I want to sob and I want to fight to breathe. Keep me roped so I can’t even try. Force me to my knees with my hands bound. Keep me blind and helpless.” Drogo took hold of Viserys’s cock again as he talked and Viserys felt like he might lose his mind at the touch. He was bucking up into Drogo’s hand, desperate in moments. “Sir, please, cover my nose. Hold my nose closed so I cannot breathe at all as you fuck my mouth, my throat, all of me. And when you come, smear your seed over my face, everywhere. Do not let me wipe it away, cover me in it and let it dry there. Let me feel my skin tighten and pinch around it. Oh, sir. No! Please don’t stop touching me.”

“Steady, Silver, steady. We have the whole night.” Drogo had loosened his grip of Viserys’s dick to a lighter tease.

“Sir, please sir, please.” VIserys’s hips were jerking like a wild creature, desperately trying to get some harder friction and finding nothing but Drogo’s loose sticky fist. 

“Tell me, Silver. What else would you hate?”

“Uh, oh, yes,” said Viserys, resigning himself to the tease. “Then, when I am dripping with your seed, take me out of here. Still roped, helpless. My face filthy with you, sir. My dick hard to shame me. And show me to all of them, sir. Show them you’re my master.”

“And you’d hate that would ye, Silver,” said Drogo, letting Viserys’s cock go completely and dropping a light kiss onto his chin.

“Yes, sir,” said Viserys. “I’d hate that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The shame, the deep shame of such a crime against all God and nature, as Drogo licked his hole open, pushed his thick tongue right inside him and Viserys writhed against the ropes, cock jerking and leaking into the soft bed beneath him._

Drogo had already made Viserys climax three times when he had him turn over. Viserys had asked him, gasping, as he spasmed that third time, how such things were even possible, how he could be made ecstatic again and again and Drogo had laughed and told him the world was full of more magic than he knew.

“And here’s a little magic for ye, Silver,” Drogo whispered in Viserys’s ear as he was retied, Drogo’s fingers yanking the ropes and holding him in place, face pressed to the soft pillows. Drogo slipped down Viserys’s body then, to kiss and bite at his rear. He moved slow over it, lavishing the soft flesh there with affection from his hot, wanting mouth; Viserys hole, already so used, was twitching to feel Drogo’s attentions so close - Viserys couldn’t help tugging at the ropes that held him, trying to get himself pressed onto Drogo’s tongue.

But Drogo was holding Viserys tightly by the hips, and when Viserys squirmed, Drogo’s fingers tightened. “Aye, Silver,” he whispered, wetly kissing across the crease at the tops of Viserys’s thighs, “ye will wait, precious. Ye will be a patient creature for me.”

Holding on more tightly, he went on kissing, sucking and biting at Viserys backside and thighs, slipping is tongue down between his spread legs, getting closer and closer to his desperate, wanting hole, until, at last, his tongue slipped into the crease of Viserys quivering rear and dragged over the soft skin beneath that desperate little maw. 

Viserys moaned upon the pillows his face was sunk into. Moaned and tried to thrash in the tight grip of Drogo’s big hands as Drogo’s tongue flickered back and forth in that sensitive spot behind his balls, with increasing twist and pressure. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t even move. And eventually, gently, Drogo moved his hands and spread him, opening him up. Viserys twitched with the shame of being so bared, so exposed, and with Drogo’s face so close to how shameful and wanting and needy he was. And then Drogo’s hot, flat tongue took a single slow pass over his hole. He couldn’t buck up, he tried but Drogo’s hands on his body were too strong, he knew the way he was struggling against them was covering his hips in bruises - but he couldn’t help it. Drogo licked him again and pleasure washed over him. Pleasure and shame. To be taken in that place, to be shown such feeling in that place - to be so lavished. It was nothing but shame and sin. Viserys felt himself colour. Blood rushing to his face as fast as it was rushing to his dick.

The shame, the deep shame of such a crime against all God and nature, as Drogo licked his hole open, pushed his thick tongue right inside him and Viserys writhed against the ropes, cock jerking and leaking into the soft bed beneath him. 

He would have climaxed from that alone - from the aching shame of it as much as anything, if Drogo hadn’t slipped a hand around one thin hip and taken his dick hard in his hand. As Drogo’s fingers closed tight around the root of him, cutting off his chance of coming and making his building pleasure into nothing but torment, Viserys yelled out, “No, no, sir! Please, sir, please. Let me come for you. Let me!”

“Shush, sweet Silver,” Drogo whispered into Viserys’s tormented flesh. “Only when yer lord allows.” Another rough cruel lap at Viserys’s hole. “And then, sweetling, only when my dick is in ye and y have begged for it.”

“Please, sir,” Viserys said into the pillows. “In that case, please take me now. Use me as I am fit to be used. As your consort. As, oh as -“ Viserys stopped to take a deep swallow, which was followed by a hopeless gasp. “As your property, sir. Please. It’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted…” And as Drogo moved, with a gasp of pleasure, to raise himself and fuck into Viserys, Viserys wondered how much of what he had said was his own desperate need to be fucked and to be allowed to come again, and how much of that was bitter truth. 

Surely a man will say all kinds of things whilst rutting. One should not be called to account for such talk.

Drogo found his ear, kissed it and licked it and said, “When we wed, my dear prince, I will take ye, in front of them all like this. And y shall scream my name like this and call me your master like this. A noble lord such as yerself shall be made my fuckhole and they will know I am yer owner and their king.” 

Viserys came then, on Drogo’s cock, screaming for Drogo and for the fourth time that night

 

*

The next morning he was made to travel in the cage again. They left early and he was still sleepy when Drogo gathered him up from the bed and dumped him inside it. He barely had the will to protest after being so well used. And later another hand opened a small hatch in the side of the cage and pushed through some bread and cheese, a canteen of water and another of thick, sweet wine. He ate and drank in his cramped prison and then found himself drifting back to sleep before they had been travelling more than a single hour. 

He awoke when the party drew to a halt. It was still bright daylight outside. Viserys tried to peer through the open weave of the cage but could see nothing beyond it but the billowing fabric of the wagon. He was settling himself back to sleep when he heard footsteps, and then the very distinct sound of someone climbing upon the wagon itself. He froze. His little hatch door opened. All he saw through it was a leather covered crotch.

“Ah, my dear, Silver.”

“Drogo.” Viserys swallowed. “Lord?”

“Hush, Silver. I have but a moment for ye.” And then the leather was stripped away and Viserys couldn’t hide his moan as Drogo’s glorious erection shoved itself through the cage’s little hatch door. “Don’t talk, Silver,” Drogo said, roughly. “But know I had the whole train stop for ye. Couldn’t concentrate for thinking about how I still hadn’t taken yer fair mouth. Give your King service now or I will have every man in my tribe line up and take ye through this hole.“ 

VIserys moaned at that notion and pressed forward. He licked carefully at Drogo’s erection. Outside the cage he heard Drogo make a gigantic shuddering sound. His dick tasted sour, salty and musky. It was hot and the thick shape of it and the scent of it made Viserys’s breath catch. He licked it again and this time, moaned louder. “Take it into yer mouth, Silver,” muttered Drogo. 

Viserys did so, sucking in as much as he could and Drogo cried out. “Oh, you filthy, dirty thing. What I have made of ye. Dear little noble, so great a gentlemen. Yet he will suck me through a hole in his prison.” Viserys could feel Drogo’s hands taking hold of the outside of the cage. He gripped hard and began to yank it forward, as if he were fucking the entire construction, pulling Viserys helplessly harder onto his dick. Viserys gagged and struggled, but there was nowhere to go in the box. All he could do was take it. “Good boy, Silver, good boy,” Drogo groaned. “That’s right, open your throat for me, you can do this. Take it all. I know you want this.”

Drool was leaking down Viserys’s chin as he struggled to breathe. He was gripping the rough woven floor of the cage to try not to fall as the whole thing rattled and bucked and Drogo just fucked him and his cage onto his cock. Viserys felt his own dick stir to hardness. This treatment aroused him so desperately. 

But as Drogo bucked harder and jerked and came into Viserys’s mouth, Drogo whispered. “Nothing for ye, Silver. Ye do not touch yerself. I want you to scream for my hand on yer dick, tonight.”

*

They travelled like that for days. Drogo took Viserys every night. Usually more than once, usually for a long time. Drogo had a stamina Viserys could scarcely countenance - and Viserys was half-hard often, just thinking about. It was sodomy nearly always, Drogo’s thick cock rubbing up against him, fingers opening him, a kiss there to prepare him - more than a kiss if he begged like a whore for it. 

Viserys’s own mouth was required on Drogo’s cock most mornings, except when they struck camp early. And if that happened Drogo would find a moment, as soon as they stopped to water the horses, to either take him in the cage again or, if there was more time, to drag Viserys from it and put him to his knees for use, behind a tree or on some long grass, barely hiding any of what was being done. Viserys wished he could say he hated it.

Often the degradation of this, the public humiliation of being used so carelessly, turned Viserys on so much he couldn’t speak. He would get so hard as Drogo forced himself deep into Viserys’s mouth, just slamming in, sometimes hard sometimes leisurely, but never with any care for Viserys’s own wants. But if Viserys ever reached for his own hard prick Drogo would snarl and tell him his hands would be bound for the rest of the day if he so much as grazed it.

And slowly, slowly Viserys began to forget he had ever been anything but Drogo’s property.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a little guilty as this chapter seems a little short and contains barely any plot. However, it is not lacking in endless filth about Viserys's obsession with Drogo's cock, so I hope you will forgive me.


	5. Chapter 5

Drogo woke Viserys by kissing him, kissing him and kissing him, over and over, on the mouth, until Viserys - still half dreaming - parted his lips and let Drogo’s tongue describe - with twists and thrusts - exactly how he was planning to fuck him. Drogo pressed his chest close, rubbed his thick cock against Viserys’s thigh and pressed his fingers into him where he was still slick from the night before.

And after he had done all he wanted, which was a great deal, and more than Viserys wanted, leading to some pleading for mercy and relief, neither of which were given, Drogo held Viserys, waited for him to stop shaking. He whispered, “We will reach the Stones this afternoon, my sweet precious creature. There will be things I must do. I will not come to ye tonight or the night after. Ye must wait. I will send ye servants and vittles and all that you need.”

Viserys swallowed and looked up into those great dark eyes. “Sir, really? I am to be alone.” He was still bleary from all Drogo had done. It had been a particularly punishing episode, and yet, as ever, he had delighted in it, even as it had degraded him and reduced him to little more than nothing.

“Yes, y’are, silver. And ye will keep yerself for me, y understand. Yer sweet little prick is mine.” Drogo wrapped a big fist around it, soft as it was.

Viserys whimpered. He did not want Drogo’s touch in this moment, and yet he felt a thick, hot jolt of arousal slip down his spine. “Yes sir,” he whispered. “Yes. I am all for you. I am nothing, but yours.”

“Ye will have all my attention when I return, dear prince,” said Drogo, his thumb tracking Viserys’s bottom lip. “All ye desire. Sweet treasure. Mine to exalt and yet, truly nothing but a hole for my cock.”

“Yes, sir,” Viserys breathed. “Yes.”

*

Mira and Sera tended to him that evening when the party came to a halt. They bathed him in the tent as usual, fed him and, instead of tying him to the bed for Drogo to take his pleasure, used a chain to connect one of his ankles to the end of it. “Is that really…?” Viserys watched Mira locking it into place. “Do you need to do that to me?”

“I must do as the king wishes me to do,” Mira said as she straightened. “Now, Mr Targaryen, you have water and wine and a bucket for your soil. There is to be a guard outside this tent at all times and you are not to make any attempt to leave. Do you require anything more?”

Viserys drew the robe around his body and shook his head. Feeling very alone, suddenly. Alone in this camp of strangers.

*

By late in the afternoon the next day, Viserys had tried to work off the chain at his ankle several times, but it wasn’t possible to remove it. He had searched and found that there were no tools he could use in the tent, nothing with an edge or a blade or anything at all. After another fruitless attempt, he found himself with his fingers probing at the chain loop around his ankle and thinking of home, wondering, with guilty prickles, if it was his own fault he was here, now, trapped this way - that he really hadn’t tried, when he could, to escape, or even reason with Drogo about this untenable situation. 

There was a tray of fruit on the bed where he sat. Dropping the chain, he pushed a plum slowly into his mouth, letting sweetness mess his chin and stared at the ceiling of the tent…

The sudden sound almost make him choke. There was a crash and a scuffle, but over quickly. And before he’d really looked up, or begun to cry out, there were three big men at the entrance of the tent. His stomach lurched when he saw one of them was Haggo. 

The chain at his ankle felt suddenly tighter than it had before.

Haggo stared at Viserys lasciviously, with his mouth a little open and Viserys could see Haggo’s tongue running along the line of his snarled bottom teeth. He swallowed a hard lump of fear. 

“What do you want?” he said, realising with a jolt of horror that his silk robe was hanging open, that he might as well be naked for all that his body was covered at all. He looked like the obscene luxury he knew he was. He pulled it tighter around him.

“What do I want?” Haggo looked, smirking, at the other two men, exchanging smiles, then back at Viserys, right at the place where he’d drawn his robe tighter over his soft prick. “Don’t you know, little princess?”

“If you touch me,” Viserys said, his voice shaking, “Drogo will kill you.”

Again, the men swapped, amused looks. “Drogo’s dead,” said one of the other men. “Your owner and proctor is dead and you are nothing but a camp whore now, little lord. We’ve come to claim our share of the dead King’s property.”

VIserys was so shocked at this, he barely registered Haggo had crossed the tent to him. He was still splayed on the bed with his mouth open, when he felt Haggo pulling his robe open again, and straddling him and pressing him backwards before he could do anything at all. “Please,” he said, quickly, as Haggo wound a hand in his hair and tipped his head back so he could lick at his throat - Viserys could feel Haggo’s erection. “Please. What happened to Drogo. He can’t be… How can he be?”

“Hur. He is. He went to petition the high council to be allowed to marry ye. They were disgusted as they should be, and sentenced him to an ordeal by combat for such an abomination. He died in the pit. He died for ye, slut. For want of yer filthy cock and yer hole. An’ ye’ll be lucky to make it out of this tent alive, when the tribe hear of what your the lust for you has done to our king, to our whole tribe.”

“What, what?” Viserys tried to fight, tried to sit up, but, of course, he couldn’t. “Please.” The other two men were on him, also, wrenching his legs so wide apart it burned. One of them started licking at his thigh. “Please. What are you to do?” And the end of the sentence vanished into a scream as the mouth on his thigh bit him hard.

Haggo’s face was so close, Viserys could smell his vile breath. “Oh, dear whore of sluttery, when the party returns with Drogo’s body, you will be burned alive with it on his funeral pyre. I thought I’d have use of ye, before it ye are nothing but ash, while y'are still pretty as y’are. Now, sweet princess, kiss me properly.” And Drogo mashed his mouth onto Viserys’s, biting at his lips. Viserys almost choked at the taste of him. And the vile tongue forced it's way into his mouth.

But on and on the kiss went, and the biting at his thighs and more, the hands - the hands all over him. He tried and tried to struggle. But he could not free himself. His robe was shredded. 

He was rolled onto his stomach, kicking and screaming and hauled up onto all fours, tears were clouding his eyes. “Aye,” said one of the voices over his yelling. “Isn’t he a delight? Are ye wanting the arse, Haggo? I fancy the sweet mouth. Ye know, Drogo stopped the entire caravan for it once, seems a shame not to find out if that were worth it. Viserys was sobbing. His pressed his face to the pillows. The bed creaked as someone climbed upon it in front of him. His head was jerked up by the hair and he opened his eyes to a dripping, purpled erection, hovering in front of his mouth. The man in front of him said, “Come on now, beautiful. I hear this is a fine skill of yours.”

“I heard,” said a voice behind Viserys, “that Drogo covers his cock in honey and has this whore lick it clean.” And at this image, Viserys felt his dick stir and more tears prick his eyes. 

“That true?’ said the man in front of him. 

Someone’s hand slipped under his body and a fist closed around is dick. He tried to squirm away from the touch but couldn’t. “Aye, little sweetling,” said someone, “ye’ll come too. Ye’ll beg for it.” And Viserys felt a jerking at his prick.

And then there were two fingers at his hole. He wasn’t slick at all, had been well bathed since Drogo last took him, so all he felt there was a sickening burn. “Please, please,” he managed and then sputtered over his words as a hard slap caught his face. Panting, his face stinging, he looked up at the man in front of him, who was drawing back his hand to hit him again, this time with a closed fist. 

“I asked ye a question.”

“What?” said Viserys, and the man punched him. Hitting his jaw hard. His head spun and he felt his mouth fill with blood. He was dizzy and confused when the man caught his chin. 

“I might just beat on him, Haggo,” he said. “Knock his teeth out before I put my dick in there.”

“Do what you want,” said Haggo. And Viserys felt a third finger press into him, dry. His head spun with pain. The man in front of him was preparing to punch him again.

And then something splattered on his back, and there was a tiny moment where he thought maybe the third man had ejaculated over the sight of him being brutalised. But then a weight hit him there - a thud. A body. And a curved sword slicked through the air and sliced the head clean away from the man in front of him. Haggo's fingers were pulled out of him, and Viserys dropped onto the bed in sheer terror.

He heard Haggo say. “Drogo? You’re dead.”

“Am I now,” said Drogo. “In that case you won’t mind if I slice your throat open.”

“But they sentenced you… oh god, they sentenced you to the pit. Drogo?”

“Aye, they did that. And ye ran, didn’t ye? Too cowardly to wait and see if my tribe would be made to follow me to death.” Viserys lifted his head and slowly turned. Almost not daring to look. But there was Drogo, holding a bloodied blade, standing over a quivering Haggo. “Ye missed my appeal. I’m no fool Haggo. I knew what they’d say to my petition. I also knew a King does as he pleases. And that is the oldest of our laws. I overturned their ruling. I get to wed my silver, although you will not see it you filthy raper.” Drogo turned and looked at Viserys, cowering, bloody on the bed, “pass me the rope, precious. Ye will enjoy what I do with this one.”

*

That night Drogo called a meeting. He had Viserys kneel beside his chair, his cheek resting on Drogo’s thigh, like a treasured pet. He could smell Drogo’s dick as he announced the declaration of the High Council, the wedding and then had Haggo brought before him in chains. Haggo begged for mercy, but Drogo refused to listen. He turned away Haggo's sister who asked to petition for clemency. Viserys could feel his rage as he solemnly pronounced sentence. 

Haggo was tied to a post and flogged, screaming, by Drogo himself until his back was laid open, flowing with blood and he was barely conscious. Viserys thrilled to see such a thing. Drogo had stripped off his shirt to do the job and he was running with sweat in the torch light when he was done. Then when Drogo’s anger was finally satisfied with the punishment, a pyre was built around the post and Haggo was burned alive. 

Before he’d lit the pyre, Drogo had thrown a bucket of water over Haggo and when Viserys asked him why, Drogo had lifted him up into his big lap, hard dick pressed to his rear and said, “So it would take longer for him to burn, Silver. So he would suffer more. For touching ye.” Viserys rested his head on Drogo’s shoulder. “And now, Silver,” Drogo whispered. “Ye must be punished too.”

Viserys lifted his head. “Me? For what?”

“They touched you, Silver. Ye will be flogged also for such a thing. It is the law.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is on hiatus until Autumn 2015

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr ](http://mathildia.tumblr.com/) (I always like Drogo x Viserys prompts)
> 
> [Discussion and mini fics about Drogo x Viserys](http://mathildia.tumblr.com/tagged/drogo-x-viserys)
> 
> Obviously there are some well-known race issues with the Dothraki and Khal Drogo. I will try and be aware and avoid this. However, in this story Drogo and his band are basically gypsies and may be referred to as such, by other characters using period typical slurs. 
> 
> I apologise for any misspelt names - this canon is such a headache.


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